


Ellie's Belly : Tacos & More

by thelonebamf



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 18:55:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15274086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonebamf/pseuds/thelonebamf
Summary: Written for the 2018 Prompt Bang!"Peter is a street artist and Wade is the owner of a food truck on the opposite side of the street. And even though business is slow he can't *not* treat him to lunch."





	Ellie's Belly : Tacos & More

Self employed. 

 

Freelance. 

 

Odd Jobs.

 

Wade had any number of ways to describe what he did for a living whenever filling out paperwork, online dating profiles, or even making small talk with particularly chatty fellow bus riders. Easy turns of phrase that implied so much while revealing nothing at all, and that was how he liked it.

 

It was far preferable to have random strangers imagine that he was a courier or some kind, or spent weekends washing windows than for them to know how he really paid the bills. 

 

To be fair he’d never actually killed anyone, though he’d come close a few times. Typically a few light threats and creative manhandling of his target’s “delicates” were enough to get the job done. He mostly dealt in “protection” with the occasional recon job, and the only reason he’d stuck with either was because he was  _ good _ at it. Well that, and the fact that the money was good. And with no one to look out for besides himself there wasn’t any real reason to worry about “long term” plans.

 

That all changed when he met Ellie.

 

A small part of him argued against even showing up at the agency when he was called after Carmelita’s death. It reasoned that he should do nothing more than step through the doors, sign whatever documents he had to in order to hand over custody and make sure his life continued on undisturbed.

 

But then he saw her in the waiting room, dark hair swept back in an unruly ponytail, feet kicking back and forth under a violently orange plastic chair, her small fingers clutched tight around a rubber dinosaur. And he made a choice.

 

Today he found himself hunched over a wheezing desktop at an internet cafe, searching for jobs. Unfortunately there weren’t many places hiring men in their late thirties whose resumes sported so many red flags they looked like someone had just finished a game of minesweeper. 

 

Oh yeah, and Wade hadn’t really touched a computer since the nineties, so there was  _ that _ fun little obstacle.

 

He had savings, sure. Enough to move the two of them to a less sketchy part of town than his old place at least. But for the first time he had to really think about the future, Ellie’s future. And that meant toys and clothes for school. It meant doctor’s visits and _ college funds  _ but his heart started beating a little to hard when he thought about that for too long. It meant putting food on the table, but at least he had that _ under  _ control.

 

“Are you making tacos for dinner?” She pulled a chair out from the table and looked up at him, still busy at the stove.

 

“You know it, Ellie Bellie. Why do you ask? You’re not sick of tacos are you?”

 

“Nuh uh,” she shook her head before dumping out the contents of her backpack on the table. “I wish you had a restaurant and then I could eat there every day.”

 

His nose wrinkled as he turned his head over his shoulder to look at her, already busy with a math worksheet. He didn’t relish the idea of having to help her with her assignments once she grew out of adding and subtracting pictures of apples or squirrels. Maybe he could hire a tutor. But that would mean getting a job first.

 

“Ellie, you already get to eat my food every day.”

 

“Yep!” The girl nodded without looking up. “But still...” She trailed off as though that explained everything well enough.

 

Wade knew his daughter was just speaking from a place of childish admiration and perhaps even some sense of familial pride, but the more he turned the idea over in his head, the more he liked the sound of it. He’d always enjoyed cooking, having a penchant for any activity where he could use his hands. And the idea of being his own boss was infinitely more appealing than having to answer to somebody else every day just to collect a paycheck. 

 

Several weeks more of internet searches, permits and brushing up on the New York City health codes had Wade ready to open shop on his brand new (well new to him, anyway) taco truck.

 

“You sure you wanna do this here?” His friend Weasel asked while helping him unload a deep fryer that was almost definitely acquired by legitimate means. “There’s still guys looking for you. Might be safer to take this act on the road, somewhere safer. I hear Portland has a good truck scene. Austin maybe?” 

 

“Too soggy. And too… I don’t know, cowboy? Look, Weas. This is our home. I’m keeping my nose clean, staying away from the old haunts. There’s over eight million people crawling around this city, I’m pretty sure I can get lost and stay that way just fine.”

 

“I’m not so sure, but it’s your life,” Weasel shrugged.

 

“Yeah, and I’m gonna make it a good one.”

 

The other benefit of working in a city he knew so intimately was that Wade had a great feel for the different parts of town, and knew just where to park his truck in order to take advantage of hungry pedestrians. Today he was parked on the streets bordering some kind of art festival, the sort that seemed to happen every weekend when the weather was nice enough for it. He was just far enough away to avoid getting chased off for the crime of not being an “official vendor” of the event. 

 

This was where Wade preferred to operate- on the fringes of the crowd. Plenty of other opportunistic types had taken to hanging out here as well, hoping to make a few dollars off of tourists eager to spend the money in their pockets.

 

There were of course the typical sort of panhandlers, with their cardboard signs and plastic cups, but they failed to garner much attention in comparison to the street performers who showed up. Wade caught glimpses of them out of his window whenever there was a lull in his orders. It was quite the menagerie. Jugglers, street drummers, and human statues all picked spots on the sidewalk to perform and some of them even managed to draw a crowd, but none of them kept Wade's attention for long- at least not until the dancer.

 

It certainly wasn't because of anything he was wearing, although the well-worn jeans did hug his hips quite nicely.

 

There was just something about the way he moved, how he managed to jump in the air and almost trick the eye into thinking he was floating there, caught motionless as though hanging from a thread. Of course his spinning and kicking and flips were nothing to sniff at either, he was clearly talented and that slim frame must have been hiding some serious muscle if he could move like that.

 

It was rather a shame that he didn't draw more of a crowd. Even if a few people did stop they didn't linger long, and others walked by him as though they didn't realize a performance was going on at all.

 

Wade watched him perform a few times as he made slow laps around the park, trying out different corners in hopes of better luck. By the time he returned to his original spot the sun was just starting to go down.

 

Even though he had seen the dance a few times before, there was something about the way the young man looked just then, silhouetted against the dimming light of the setting sun that captured his attention.

 

It was how he ended up burning a tortilla for the first time ever.

 

The sky was purpling as the dancer started packing up his things- a CD player and a small bucket whose pathetic hollow clunk told Wade the young man has ended his day hardly any richer. He wasn't sure what pushed him to do it, but before he could stop himself he was shoving open the side door to his truck, and keening out a high pitched whistle.

 

It made the boy pause and glance his way, and though he seemed unsure at first, Wade's beckoning hand was enough to urge him over.

 

"That was some pretty fancy footwork you were doing," Wade began, a crooked smile growing on his face as he looked down into the flushed features of his new favorite performer. "You've gotta be starving."

 

"Yeah..." he trailed off, staring down into his pitiful collection of bills and coins, clearly weighing the pros and cons of spending some of his hard won cash on a hot meal.

 

"Hey don't sweat it," Wade said, stopping the depressing train of thought. "I've spent the better part of the afternoon being entertained by your performances, the least I can do is sling a few tacos your way. You like carnitas?"

 

"I like everything."

 

In the end, Wade plated up half the menu for his guest, stuffing six of his best into a paper boat that looked like it might burst at any moment.

 

"Yeah, okay and I went ahead and put some cabbage on the barbacoa for you because it's good but it's so rich, like pot roast times ten so you need that crunch and hey, it's a vegetable right? Your mom would be proud. And this is our regular salsa for babies but I know you don't want any of that weak stuff so try this green one. Avocados and jalapenos but it packs a punch. You're not one of those people who can't eat cilantro, are you? Poor bastards..."

 

He was rambling and he knew it, but he was rightfully proud of everything he made. So what if he wanted to show off a little to the cute guy whose ass he'd been staring at all day? There were worse ways to flirt than with a little spicy food.

 

Unfortunately his words seemed to sail right over his companion's head, as he was staring at the plate of food like it was the first one he'd seen in days. If today's earnings were anything like his usual, it might have been.

 

Pretty soon they were both seated on the curb and Wade watched as his tacos disappeared at an alarming pace, his guest only stopping when some bit of beef or onion went down the wrong pipe.

 

"Whoa hey there," he said, giving him a few sharp slaps on the back. "It tastes better if you chew it, you know, take it easy... uhhh"

 

"P- kkhg... Pe-Peter," he managed to get out, still struggling to swallow his last bite. "And um... hk... I'm sorry. It's just ah, been a while. Pasta is cheap and filling but fresh meat and veg cut into the budget a little too deeply so..."

 

"Been there," Wade nodded in assent. "Well it's nice to meet you Pete, now you've had my meat." He singsonged as he bounced the heel of his shoe against the pavement. "I'm Wade by the way."

 

Peter nodded, swiping the back of his hand across his lips. "I had a feeling you weren't 'Ellie' he grinned, pointing at the name painted across the front of the truck."

 

"Ha, no! That's my little girl. Light of my life," he nodded. "She gave me the idea for the truck so I said I'd name it after her. Then she had the nerve to ask me for a cut! Ten percent! I tell you, kids these days," he laughed.

 

"Sounds like she'll be a shrewd businesswoman someday," Peter agreed.

 

"Hope so, would sure love to see her doing something like that. She's got the head for it when she wants to."

 

The rest of Peter's meal was gone in a flash but as he stood to leave, Wade stopped him and disappeared into the truck. After a few more minutes, the serving window opened again.

 

"I'm no stranger to the ramen noodle life, so here, take these." He shoved a white paper bag through the window down to Peter's waiting hands. "You can throw em in the oven but they're not half bad cold."

 

Peter looked down into the bag and saw another half dozen foil wrapped parcels, and was already doing some quick mathematics in his head to figure out how long he could make them last.

 

"Th--- uh... wow, thank you. You really didn't have to... I mean...."

 

"Don't mention it." Wade waved him off. "Maybe I'll catch another one of your shows sometime."

 

"I'll keep an eye out for you then," Peter smiled, finally heading home for the night as Wade started to close up shop.

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn't a "regular" thing, but Wade had a tendency to park his truck on the same streets on the same days, and some of his preferred locations turned out to be ones Peter favored as well. It made sense, really. There weren't too many spots with adequate foot traffic where cops were lax about rushing off performers for "disturbing the peace".

 

They ended up running into each other about once a week, not always on the same day. And every day as the sun began to set, Wade would give out that same screech of a whistle to usher Peter over for dinner and conversation. After about a month and a half, Peter wandered over sheepishly on his own, and was greeted by a hot plate of food, and a warm smile.

 

"It's starting to get colder out," Peter said one night, at least remembering to chew and swallow before speaking this time.

 

"Really Pete? Talking about the weather? I thought we were way past that point," Wade tutted.

 

"No I just mean," he took another bite. "M'not sure how much longer I can count on people being out and about. People on the street are in a hurry to get where they're going. Not as likely to stop and watch a show, let alone drop any cash, you know?"

 

"Mmm," Wade nodded. "Guess I hadn't thought about it. It's hot as hell over my grill, and people always want tacos no matter what it's like outside. Maybe not if it's raining cats and dogs. Or a tornado... sharknado... ha." He sat up straight. "Hey maybe that's what you need!"

 

"A shark... sharknado?" Peter stared back. He was accustomed to following Wade's ever ricocheting line of thought, but this time he was thoroughly lost.

 

"No, no, just like a spectacle or a whatsit... a... a gimmick!" He pounded a fist into his open palm a few times as the idea started to take shape. "You know, something to draw a crowd!"

 

"I don't know..." Peter wavered. "I mean, I've never really been good at that sort of thing. I've always just focused on technique and-"

 

"Look Petey, nobody is doubting that you got the skills to pay the bills," Wade interrupted. "But if I'm honest it takes more than that. And I've seen some real hacks out here makin'  _ bank  _ because they know how to work the audience."

 

"I guess I was thinking I could play it off like I was a 'mysterious artist' type or something."

 

"Nah, that doesn't work for an on the spot kind of thing. You  have to engage the audience from the first second they see you. Maybe think up some banter to help work up the crowd!”

 

“I’m not sure,” Peter mumbled, gnawing at the inside of his cheek. “I’m not particularly funny or interesting. Nobody is going to want to listen to me talk.” 

 

“Well, first off I have to disagree with all of that,” Wade shook his head. “But if you don’t feel comfortable talking to the crowd, that’s pretty common with performers. A lot of famous types create a performance persona, maybe that’s what you need. Get yourself a Sasha Fierce!” 

 

Peter picked at the crinkled edge of the foil wrapped around what was left of his burrito, lips twisting back and forth as he tried to imagine it. Unfortunately his thoughts were interrupted by the mental image of Wade performing “Single Ladies” while flanked by backup dancing sharks… or sharknados maybe and he had to stop and run his hand over his face to clear away the thought.

 

“I’m willing to try just about anything,” he said at last. “I have bills to pay after all. I mean who doesn’t but… well I’ve never done anything like this before? But it seems like you’re the expert so if you have any tips, I’d love to hear them.”

 

“Yeah, yeah sure Pete. I’d love to help you with that, I just gotta-” he glanced down at his wrist, frowning a little. “Actually, it’s getting a little late and I think the tourists are all calling it a night. Um. Don’t suppose you’d want to come over to my place?”

 

Peter hesitated, glancing from Wade to street lights that had just begun to flicker to life. They’d only ever met a dozen or so times, always by Wade’s truck and never with a plan. Still, the other man had never give him any reason not to trust him, so he nodded and a few seconds later was enjoying the comforting warmth and lingering savory aroma from the passenger side seat of the truck. 

 

Despite their earlier easy chatter, the ride passed in near silence until they pulled up in a small lot near a red-brick apartment building. 

 

“You live here?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Is something the matter?” Wade paused as he held the door open, looking up at the painted door frame and windows, looking for some secret defect.

 

“N-no. Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound that way,” Peter hunched a little as he stepped over the threshold and into the lobby. “It’s just so… I don’t know. It’s the kind of place my Aunt May might like to live.”

 

“Well your Aunt sounds like a lady with good taste,” Wade winked at him.

 

No sooner had Wade unlocked the door to his apartment when a small colorful mass of ribbon and light up sneakers burst towards him. 

 

“Dad!”

 

“Hey, Ellie. How’s it going. Were you good for Al?” 

 

Peter peeked inside the door into the living room which seemed to have been decorated in what he could best call “Unicorn Grandma Chic”. Ellie was already bounding onto the sofa, having failed to let up on her death grip around Wade’s waist, already recounting everything that had happened at school that day at a breakneck pace she must have inherited from her father.

 

“And Jimmy P. said that he shoved a marble in his nose and he just put a finger on the other side and he was able to blow it out and hit his brother in the side of the head and it stuck there because of the boogers but I told him if he really stuck one up there then he’d have to go to the hospital and the doctor would have to take it out with special tweezers that go in your nose like this…” She squished her nostrils upwards until her nose resembled a pig’s snout.

 

“And then what happened, Eleanor?” came a voice from the kitchen. Peter turned and saw an older woman with hair like polished silver, pursing her lips.

 

“Well…” the young girl crossed her arms in a huff. “Then…”

 

Wade mirrored his daughter’s pose, giving her an appraising look. “Ellie?”

 

“Well maybe then he called me a liar and I said I wasn’t because I saw it on TV and he said I was dumb for believing everything I saw on TV because it’s all just made up anyway! And then I told him that this was for real because it was on a real hospital show where they show everything even the blood and the gross parts and he got jealous probably because his mom and dad don’t let him watch cool stuff and he shoved me and it didn’t even hurt but then…”

 

“Then?”

 

“...well then… maybe… Ishovedhimbackjustalittle…” 

 

“Which is why…” Al led her a little more, causing the girl to stick her tongue out at the old woman, though she seemed to have no reaction.

 

“Which is whyyyy,” Ellie drawled, “I had to write an extra paper tonight for homework about how important it is to use our words to solve problems with our friends.” She rolled her eyes. “Which is dumb because Jimmy P. isn’t even my friend, he’s just a dumb boy in my grade.”

 

“Well Ellie, I have some bad news for you,” Wade wrapped an arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “All boys are dumb. Well, darn near most of them, anyway.” He looked back over the back of the sofa, giving Peter a quick wink.

 

Eventually, Ellie finished explaining in detail all the reasons why Jimmy P. was pretty much the worst thing in the whole world ever, her mouth still running even while she was brushing her teeth and being tucked into bed. Eventually cataloguing all of her classmate’s faults took its toll on the girl’s energy, and she passed out with her father still sitting at her bedside, her mouth hanging open, brow still slightly furrowed. Peter half expected her to spring up at any moment and start shouting, ‘and another thing!’.

 

“Sorry that took so long,” Wade winced a little as he poured coffee for the two of them in the newly quiet kitchen. “She’s always pretty chatty when I get home, but when she’s fired up there’s just no stopping her.” 

 

“I think it’s sweet,” Peter smiled, accepting his cup and inhaling the pleasing aroma. “Some kids don’t really share anything with their parents at all. It’s clear that you’re very important to her.”

 

“Yeah, I uh…” Wade tapped one nail on the side of his mug. “I actually didn’t know Ellie even existed until about a year ago. Carmelita and I weren’t exactly… well. I mean I wouldn’t have checked out entirely on purpose, you know? But now that her mom isn’t around anymore she’s only got me and I know I’m not...” He sighed, giving Peter a small shrug.

 

“I’m trying to make up for it now.”

 

“Maybe…” Peter hesitated, taking a small sip to buy a little more time. “Maybe this is odd of me to say, since I’ve only just met her, but I think Ellie knows that. She wants you to be involved in her life, wants to build that relationship with you. Kids… they understand a lot more than we give them credit for. You might not have been there in the past, but you’re here for her now.”

 

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience yourself,” Wade leaned back, raising an eyebrow.

 

A slight flush of color came to Peter’s cheeks. “Maybe a little.”

 

“Heh,” Wade grinned. “And here you thought you couldn’t engage an audience.”

 

“Wh- oh. Right. I’d almost forgotten. So, uh, any ideas?”

 

Wade produced a notepad from one of the kitchen drawers, ripping off last week’s grocery list so the two of them could start jotting down ideas. Fifteen minutes later and he page was mostly blank except for a cloud shaped scribble and a stick figure version of Peter, kicking his legs high into the air in an imitation of one of the dancer’s signature moves.

 

“Hmm, maybe we’re going at this the wrong way, Pete. Let’s not focus so much on the end product so much as what got you into dancing in the first place. What inspired you to get down and boogie? You watch a lot of ballet with your grandma as a kid? Or wait no, I bet it was golden Hollywood. ‘Singin’ in the Rain’? ‘West Side Story’? ‘Footloose’!”

 

Peter snorted, shaking his head as he set down his empty cup. “No, not any of those. This probably sounds a little stupid, but as a kid I was really into science. Y’know, I watched a lot of shows about space and animal documentaries, that kind of thing. I guess I was always inspired by the way animals moved.”

 

“You mean like swans and stuff?” Wade asked.

 

“Mmm, nope. Swans are kind of a mess, when you think about it. They look like they’re gliding so gracefully, floating on the water, but down below their legs are going crazy just to keep them steady.” He laughed. “That’s too much like the rest of my life.”

 

“Actually,” he continued, twining his fingers together in careful loops and curls. “I’ve always been fascinated by spiders. They have so many moving parts, but they’re all working together in harmony. It’s elegant and graceful and yet there’s this hint of… well danger, I suppose. It’s very… alluring.”

 

“Well that’s it then,” Wade slammed one fist into his open palm. “You have to be a spider! A whole spider theme and a name like ‘Daddy Long Legs’!”

 

“Uh, no.”

 

“Mister Webs!”

 

“Yikes.”

 

“The Amazing Spi-”

 

“Maybe we can just put a pin in the whole name thing for now,” Peter laughed. “But this is good, it gives me some food for thought. I can definitely work with spiders as a theme. I could maybe…” he trailed off, staring blankly at the far corner of Wade’s kitchen. “Webs and...yeah…”

 

It was several hours and two more cups of coffee later by the time Peter finally left, but he had a head full of ideas and a pocket stuffed with Wade’s drawings to work from. He’d always enjoyed the actual act of dancing, but now he realized he was actually excited for other people to see him.

 

One person, at least.

* * *

 

 

It was another two weeks before Wade caught sight of Peter again, and though the dancer caught his eye as soon as he appeared on the street, it was several seconds before he recognized his friend. He’d traded his battered jeans and t-shirt for a costume, likely of his own making. Now close fitting tights clung to lean muscles of his legs, while his chest was covered with a loose, fluid shirt that wavered in the air with every motion. While Wade could have sat back and admired Peter’s graceful form the entire afternoon, he found his gaze captivated by the elaborate mask the young man now wore.

 

It was the sort of cheap paper mache mask one could pick up at any costume shop, but Peter had decorated it with an intricate webbing pattern that drew attention to his face without revealing too much. Overall, it was a good look for him, and even before he’d started the music a few onlookers were beginning to gather for the show.

 

By the time the music started, there was a small crowd, and the sound of applause erupted as soon as he’d finished his first dance. Each time the music ended, or when Peter completed a particularly impressive move, the result was just the same. 

 

Wade thought he caught a few glimpses of Peter’s eyes from behind his mask, a glimmer of joy there that paired well with his proud and satisfied smile.

* * *

 

 

Being “The Spider” (or sometimes “the spider man” and even occasionally “spidey”) was working out well for Peter. Over the next month or two Wade was able to tell he’d been taking much better care of himself, eating properly and sleeping better. He still refused to let him pay for tacos, but Peter found a loophole of sorts, and compensated him with spiced hot chocolates and brightly colored conchas from the Mexican bakery around the block.

 

They were sharing a sack of the pastries now, resting their legs as they took over an obliging stoop, watching as the gentle wisps of warm air from their lips mingled with the steam from their drinks. They were swapping stories, Peter engaged in a tale about his old high school bully, who used to make fun of him for taking dance class instead of signing up for some other sport like a so called “real man”.

 

“Of course, he changed his tune when he came to the studio one day and saw what the male-to-female ratio was. I guess he realized-”

 

But whatever revelation it was that Flash Thompson had come to all those years ago, Wade never heard. His attention was pulled away by the sight of two men hanging out around his truck across the street. It was possible they were checking out the menu and specials, not realizing it was closed for the night, but something about the way they moved set Wade on edge.

 

“Anyways, it all worked out in the end. We’re actually kind of friends now? He and his boyfriend live uptown, they have the cutest little dog. I should tell them to come by your truck some time. The way those two can eat, you’d be able to make a nice deposit into Ellie’s college fund,” Peter laughed.

 

_ Ellie. _

 

“Hey, uh, speaking of which Pete, I just remembered I promised Al I’d get home early tonight. I think she’s got the girls coming over to her place for a game of strip pinochle or something, so I’ve got to beat feet, or else she’s going to make me go too.”

 

“Oh. Right. Of course.” Peter shoved the remaining half of his bread into the paper sack, crumpling it down into a misshapen lump before shoving it in his jacket pocket. “Then I’ll catch you later?”

 

“Yeah, sound great. Can’t wait for more stories about high school Petey,” he grinned back, but the edges of his mouth were stiff and cold.

 

The truck wasn’t a vehicle built for speed, but Wade got it home in record time, barely remembering to grab the keys from the ignition before running into his building, taking the steps up to his floor two at a time.

 

He found the apartment silent, except for Al’s gentle snores tempering the sound of an infomercial for what promised to be “the last blender you’ll ever buy”. Without closing the door he sped to Ellie’s room, pushing the door open in one fluid motion, catching it by the handle before it hit the wall.

 

Ellie was fast asleep in her bed, hair spread out across her pillow, her favorite stuffed shark all but pushed off the bed, held in place by a single tiny hand clutching its tailfin.

 

Wade took a seat at the foot of the bed, smoothing out her blanket and replacing the shark (he was pretty sure she’d named it ‘Beyonce’) at Ellie’s side, taking a moment to watch as she curled around it in her sleep.

 

At last, he remembered to breathe.

 

* * *

 

It was late November, several days after Wade's sudden panic when he received a text from Peter. Things had been quiet since his curbside freak-out, so Wade was glad to see that things were still relatively normal as far as Peter was concerned.

 

>> Guess who has two thumbs, just paid all their bills for the month and *still* has some cash leftover.

>> Seriously, I almost can't believe it. I'm actually going to be able to afford some half decent Christmas presents for my aunt this year.

 

//Heyyyyyy. That's great news Pete!

//You deserve it, you've been working your ass off.

//And it's a very nice ass, if I say do say so.

 

>> Lol.

>> I'll allow it.

 

>> Anyway, I was thinking

>> I really want to thank you for all your help with everything

>> Maybe... I dunno, I could take you out for dinner?

>> Like real dinner. With forks and napkins and stuff

>> Not tacos.

>> Well, unless you insist. Not that I think there's a better place in town than yours

 

// Flattery will get you everywhere, baby boy

// But I hear you. You want Chinese? Thai? Italian?

// I'm easy breezy

 

>> Beautiful?

 

// Why Pete, I didn't know you cared! ;)

// Should I tell the Al to stay late?

// Pack an overnight bag? Maybe a few days worth just in case we elope?

 

>> Actually, I was going to ask if you'd like to bring Al along? And Ellie?

>> The whole Wilson gang.

>> Unless that's too much trouble?

 

// OMG

// Not at all. I love that you love the gang.

// They're fond of you too. Even Al and she's a hard sell.

// I'll let them know we're going out on the town.

 

>> Great. Tonight okay? Maybe 8?

 

// Sounds perf.

 

Wade parked his truck in his favorite Friday spot, a street near an empty lot where artisans and vendors gathered to sell their wares. Peter's comment about Christmas shopping had the wheels in his head turning and he considered taking a break during the afternoon to see if there might be anything for sale that might make a good gift.

 

Even his prep work seemed to go a little smoother, knife sailing through piles of onions and cilantro with ease as he whistled along with the radio. He lined up the tiny plastic dishes of chopped vegetables in the low boy, nodding with satisfaction before turning to switch on the flat top and deep fryer.

 

He'd scarcely stood up straight when he realized something was wrong.

 

The force of the explosion was enough to blow the back door of the truck off simultaneously shattering the glass of the window and windshield. Wade was flung back into the edge of the counter, knocking the air from his lungs. He sank to the ground, head hitting the ground with a dull thud.

 

The last thing he saw were the flames.

 

* * *

 

Wade Wilson never expected to live forever. He just expected that the afterlife would be a little... quieter.

 

As it was there was far too much chatter, excessive beeping and mechanical humming, and an absolutely unacceptable amount of what sounded like Judge Judy.

 

"Guess she's filling in for Saint Peter..." he mumbled to himself.

 

"Wade? Hey! Wade!"

 

He did his best to try and turn so he might address the brownish, squiggly blob that was speaking to him, but found his head and limbs tightly bound, making it difficult to move. He blinked a few times, noticing a sore tightness on the right side of his face, like a fresh sunburn that managed to go all the way down to the bone.

 

“Easy does it,” came the voice again, and Wade slowly realized it belonged to someone he knew. A light pressure covered the rare exposed expanse on his left hand with a comforting warmth somehow different from the lingering, angry heat he could feel under his skin. 

 

“Hey, oh man, it’s so good to see you awake. I said I’d tell the nurses. Where’s that little buzzer thing…” 

 

“P-Pete?”

 

It took a little effort, but Wade eventually got his vision to stop swimming, bringing the hazy shapes into focus. He could see the top of Peter’s unruly mop of hair, his battered but much loved winter jacket slung over a chair in the corner where his backpack lay on the ground, a stack of books and papers spilling out onto the floor.

 

“Ellie? Where’s Ellie?”

 

“She’s fine, Wade. She’s with Al.” Peter took a seat next to the bed, pulling the chair close enough that his knees brushed its frame. “They were here earlier while you were sleeping. Left all of these for you.” He produced a stack of handmade construction paper cards in every color of the rainbow from the bedside table. 

 

“She made me promise to read them all to you, but they all basically boil down to some version of ‘Dear Dad, get well soon… or else.’” He chuckled softly as he tucked one in between the twitching fingers of Wade’s hand, watching as the man ran his thumb over the rough texture of the paper.

 

“Wade… I just wanted to say,” he paused, shrinking down into his chair until his shoulders barely rose above its back. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

 

“Sorry?” Wade frowned, making the extra effort to turn his head so he could look at him. “Why… what on earth do you have to be sorry about?”

 

“W-well I… I thought maybe…” Peter stammered as his head fell, the last two days of exhaustion and worry catching up to him. “Maybe you’d been wasting so… so much of your time helping me that… I don’t know… you missed some maintenance on your truck. Or maybe you’ve been giving me so much free food that… that there were some repairs you couldn’t pay for and that’s… that’s why-”

 

But Peter’s reasoning was stopped short as Wade began to laugh, hard enough that the tubing of his IV drip rattled against the pole.

 

“Oh… oh my sweet b- is that what you’ve been thinking? It’s been keeping you up at night too, I bet. You think this is somehow all your fault.” He sighed, letting his head rest against the cool of his pillow and took in the sight of Peter’s confused, blushing face.

 

“Pete, I’m not exaggerating one bit when I say that meeting up with you has been at the tippy top of my list of reasons I like working my truck in the first place.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, which were already starting to close. Peter had been beating himself up for who knows how long because he thought he’d been taking advantage of Wade’s generosity somehow, and he couldn’t let it continue. He had to set the record straight.

 

“I…” he stopped, ran his tongue over his lips, finding them cracked and dry. “I haven’t always been a friendly neighborhood taco vendor, you know? Before Ellie came along I… I did some pretty bad things for some very bad people. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised there’s someone out there still holding a grudge.”

 

“Wade, you don’t have to-”

 

“Really, I’m almost surprised it took this long. I should just be glad that it happened away from the apartment. But I guess this means we might have to move somewhere safer… not that I can move much right now,” he huffed a single dry laugh.

 

“Wade… I… I really am sorry.”

 

“Don’t be. I mean it.” His eyes fluttered open and he took a few seconds to watch the ever changing array of emotions on Peter’s face. “Getting to hang out with you… it’s been nice. Easy. It’s made me feel like life could be… simpler. Better.”

 

Peter couldn’t say much to that, so he settled for taking up Wade’s hand again as Wade let Ellie’s card slip down onto the bed.

 

“Can’t say I’m a big fan of hospitals… even though I’ve spent plenty of time in ‘em. I know I’m going to be laid out here for a while,” he didn’t have to see Peter nodding to know he was right. 

 

“Don’t suppose I could ask you to help out with Ellie? I don’t really have anyone else I can trust and I know Al doesn’t mind watching her but I can’t ask her to be on 24/7, you know? She deserves some time to play Bingo or throw rocks at ducks or whatever it is old ladies do in their free time. ‘Specially since school is about to be out for the holidays.”

 

“Of course,” Peter sat up, nodding quickly. “It’s too cold for me to be out much now anyway, foot traffic has died down, nobody’s stopping for a show.”

 

“Thanks, Petey. I knew I could count on you.”

 

“Besides.  _ You _ have cable.”

* * *

 

The arrangement ended up working out well for Peter. Al was willing to stick around most days with Ellie, and while she might not have been exactly happy about it, she at least complained slightly less than Peter was used to. He came to Wade’s to relieve her around dinner time, whipping up something easy for Ellie and himself to eat. After that the two of them would pop in a DVD or play a few rounds of Mario Kart. It only took a few days for him to realize she was used to playing against Wade, so his efforts to let her win were moot.

 

Since she was home from school for the next few weeks, he wasn’t too pressed about enforcing a strict bedtime for her. Ellie seemed responsible enough to know when she was tired anyway, so he wasn’t about to begrudge her a late night viewing of Rudolph when it came on T.V.

 

As the days got colder and snow started to fall, Ellie became more and more excited for the holidays. She recruited Peter to help as she made paper chains to string throughout the apartment and writing increasingly elaborate Christmas lists to deliver to her father on her frequent visits to him in the hospital. Yet despite her enthusiasm, there was one point on which she remained resolute.

 

“We can’t put up the tree,” she insisted when Peter suggested going out to buy one. “We have to wait until dad comes home. Christmas trees are for the whole family so we have to wait and put it up when he’s here!”

 

Peter had backed off at that point, but it did give him a lot of food for thought. Even if he wasn’t invited to take part in the Wilson family Christmas celebration (whatever that might entail) it was probably still a good idea for him to get a gift for Ellie and Wade. Unfortunately, while he now knew every detail of Ellie’s favorite cartoon shows, preferred dinosaurs, princesses and superheroes, he didn’t actually know a lot about what Wade might enjoy. Asking Ellie only got him a blank stare and a shrug and a story about how Jimmy P. had gotten his dad a tie and how that was dumb and “lacked creativity”. Al hadn’t been much better when Peter asked what Wade enjoyed, mumbling something vague about “getting into trouble”, leaving him with zero ideas and not much more time.

 

It also didn’t help that he wasn’t exactly flush with cash. While he’d definitely managed to pull in a little more money during the warmer months, it was a lot harder to earn much once the temperature dropped. He was at least saving a little on heating his place now that he was spending so much time at Wade’s, but it wasn’t exactly Christmas present money.

 

“Ugh, I wish I was ten again. Then I could make a macaroni picture frame and call it a day,” he mumbled to himself as he sat in Wade’s kitchen late one night. Of course he’d probably have to steal a box of pasta from Wade’s kitchen and he was pretty sure that was poor form regardless of your age. 

 

His eyes wandered to the Wilson’s refrigerator, covered in an epileptic spectrum of coupons, magnets, and Ellie’s latest artwork (although he suspected some of the drawings were Wade’s as well). 

 

There were of course the usual images of dinosaurs devouring cities (and also tacos?) and unicorns (those were probably Wade’s) but the Christmas spirit was slowly taking over the fridge. Proudly displayed at Ellie’s height were several drawings of Santa, reindeer and decorated trees surrounded by her friends and family. Peter couldn’t help but be touched when he realized he’d been included. He was sure Wade would want to see them all first thing when he returned home.

 

It gave Peter the beginning of an idea. Parents were always eager to dote on their children, and while every available surface was covered with everything from Ellie’s artwork to her B+ spelling tests, there weren’t many actual photos of her around with the exception of a school photo. Unfortunately it looked as though either Wade hadn’t been told about picture day or he had let Ellie dress herself for the event. Neither would have surprised Peter, but the result was a slightly grumpy photo of an unkempt third grader with hair that looked like her teacher had hastily smushed it down into place. Not exactly flattering.

 

Peter thought he could probably do a lot better, especially if he explained to Ellie that it was meant as a gift to her father. Even though she was as rambunctious and noisy as any grade-schooler he’d ever met, she seemed to have a great deal more patience when it came to helping her father. Maybe he’d be able to find a nice frame for the photo, and dress it up a bit.

 

He wasn’t exactly a neophyte when it came to photography. He’d had a few classes, toyed around with it as a hobby on the side, but in the end he’d spent most of his time honing his skills as a dancer. Still, when the temperature dropped it was nice to have a hobby he could work on indoors. 

 

Fortunately for Peter, he even had his camera with him. At Wade’s insistence, he’d started it setting it up to record video of his performances so he could eventually upload them online so he could develop some kind of online presence. 

 

_ “It’s all about that social media reach, Pete. Get those followers!”  _

 

He’d taken several videos, even set up some time lapse shots to see if he could get a still image or two that might make for a good profile picture, but with everything that had happened Peter hadn’t had the time to sort through them. He settled down on Wade’s sofa now, flicking the dial at the top of the casing, sifting through the files on the memory card and watching a few choice moments from his performances. Most of them were from the weeks just before he started his winter vacation, when the temperature had started to drop, and the frequent cloud cover made for softer, diffused natural light.

 

Peter smiled a little as he examined the most recent video. He was particularly proud of his performance that day, but maybe that was because he’d been within direct sight of Wade’s truck. Sometime inside him always made him want to do a little better when he knew the man would be watching. He’d actually managed to get the truck in the background, a bright pop of color set off by the bright fall foliage of the trees that lined the street. Maybe if he posted this video somewhere it would be good advertisement for Wade’s business as well. Well, that was if the two men blocking the truck’s signage would move out of the way.

 

He clicked the dial back another few notches, hoping to find another video with a clear shot of Wade’s truck. He paused on one, stepping through it frame by frame but once again the view was blocked by passers by. He squinted at the small screen, his lips twisting into a slight frown. Maybe he was just imagining things but…

 

Clip after clip and the same thing caught his eye. It might have been nothing, but once Peter had a sense of misgiving about something, he was rarely able to let it go. His aunt called it a “sixth sense” for trouble, but he hoped that for once he was wrong. Still, he wouldn’t be able to rest until he knew for sure.

 

It took a few minutes to upload the clips to his laptop where he could examine them at a larger size, and it only confirmed his suspicions. It wasn’t random pedestrians and tourists that were blocking Wade’s truck- rather, it was the same two men over and over. Sometimes they were simply standing near the road, looking around. Other times they seemed to be inspecting the truck from behind. Never once did they approach the window or try to place an order.

 

Hands trembling, Peter reached for his phone. He took a few short breaths before rifling through his contacts and placing a call.

 

“Hey, Al? Yeah it’s Peter. I’m sorry it’s so late but… do you think you could come watch Ellie for a few hours? There’s ah… something I have to do.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was a few days before Christmas by the time Wade’s bandages came off. The worst of his fractures had healed, and he’d regained his full range of motion despite a lingering soreness in some of his muscles. At least Ellie wouldn’t have to deal with losing both of her parents in the span of a year.

 

As much as Wade wanted to see his daughter, there was someone else he was aching to see. Peter hadn’t been by for a visit in over a week, and he was surprised (thought not much) at how much he missed him. Still, maybe it was for the best. He’d spent several hours now staring in the tiny polished mirror of his hospital bathroom. It wasn’t pretty.

 

He looked a little like a comic book villain, the sort who wore half-and-half colored suits and monologued about things like balance and good versus evil. Angry red burns riddled the side of his face, traveling down his neck and shoulder. The doctor said it had been a good thing he wasn’t wearing synthetic fibers, because they had a tendency to melt and fuse with the skin in accidents like these. Wade had shrugged.

 

“Yeah. Lucky me.”

 

When it was time to check out, he called back home to tell Al he was coming home. 

 

“Yeah, you guys just sit tight. I can catch a train there. I don’t want you out when it’s getting dark so early.”

 

“And that would matter to me how, exactly?” she snarked. “That’s fine, fine. We’ll be waiting for you here then. You heard from Peter?”

 

“Oh… uh…” he glanced at the lobby door, as if Peter was going to be waiting there with a cab and two hot chocolates. “No. Not for a while.”

 

“Hmm. Strange. You know he-”

 

“It’s fine. It’s probably for the best. Actually, you should probably sit Ellie down for a talk and tell her about what happened to my-”

 

“Wade?”

 

He looked up to the elevator doors, just beginning to close behind a very out of breath Peter, cheeks and nose still red from the chill outside. 

 

The young man leaned on one of the walls for support for just a moment before rushing over. He looked up at Wade’s face, lips parting with unspoken questions but he blinked hard a few times and willed the shock away. Before Wade could say anything, he shoved a handful of documents towards him.

 

“Went up to your room… you were gone…. Thought I… I missed you but…” He huffed with a tired smile, “Got… got them,”

 

“Well I was sort of hoping for hot chocolate but I guess photocopies are nice too,” Wade replied, taking the papers in hand. “Especially if they’re still warm.” He buried his nose in the stack, only partially in hopes of shielding his ruined skin a few seconds more.

 

“Wh- no, no look at them! I… I mean we… we found the guys.”

 

Wade paused, pulling the papers away from his face so he could look at them in detail. It was a police report, filed within the last two days with some not unfamiliar mugs and profiles glaring up at him from the page.

 

“Caught some suspicious guys on my camera when I was filming my routine. It could have been nothing but it just didn’t feel right, y’know?” Peter took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he tried to remember the details. “And nothing I had was enough to be conclusive but I took it to the police and they checked some surveillance footage from the convenience store across from where you park your truck at night.”

 

He tapped the pictures on the report. “Caught these same guys tampering with your tanks at night. That footage alone wasn’t enough to ID them, but with my video as well they were able to make an arrest. They’re both in custody right now and singing like birds about their employer.”

 

Peter smiled breathlessly at him, resting one hand on his shoulder that was probably as much for his own support as it was for Wade’s comfort.

 

“See… now… you don’t have to worry anymore. You and Ellie don’t have to… you don’t have to move. You can stay here in the city. With… with me. And… and uh… Al.”

 

Wade lifted his head, facing Peter straight on so there was no doubt he could see every inch of the ragged burns and scars that marred his skin. He waited for the look of revulsion or disgust, but there was nothing in Peter’s eyes except for what a small part of him dared to identify as hope.

 

“Thanks… Thank you,” he said quietly, his eyes closing as his shoulders sank, head bowing low. “I can’t tell you what that means to me… I mean to us.”

 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to come by to visit,” Peter’s hand slid from Wade’s shoulder as he crossed his arms, his fingers grasping at the sleeves of his jacket. “I’ve just been so busy trying to help out with the case. And don’t get me wrong, Captain Rogers was incredibly kind and helpful, it’s not like I was doing it alone. I probably owe him a Christmas card or a box of cookies or something,” he mumbled.

 

“I’m sure everyone at the station would enjoy that,” Wade nodded absently, still trying to process the last few minutes. “Tis the season.”

 

“Yeah,” Peter nodded, gnawing at the inside of his cheek as his gaze fell to the floor. “Thing is, with all this, I haven’t had a chance to get you anything. I just… I wanted to give you something because you… you’re really important to me and I really…”  He blinked a few times before looking back up at Wade. 

 

“Um I mean... I had been hoping to maybe snap a nice photo of Ellie for you before you came home. Maybe something in a goofy Christmas sweater. I still can, if you think you’d like it.”

 

Wade smiled, digging the palm of his hand up against his eye to brush away a tear that wasn’t sad at all. The corners of his lips tugged up into a lazy bow and his voice cracked even as he reached out to muss the tousled locks of Peter’s hair.

 

“Yeah Pete, I’d like that. I’d like that a lot. But you think you could do one of all of us? Ellie and me and you and Al?”

 

“All of us? Together?”

 

“Yeah. Together. Safe and sound.”

  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first fic for a SpideyPool event and I hope to become more confident and participate in future events as well. There will be some art/visuals for this fic soon and I'll post them here as soon as they're up!


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